Snapshots
by Madame Cross Marian
Summary: A love. A murder. A childhood stolen. This is the story of the years she lost. Modern "real-world" AU, Fem!Allen, Poker Pair


The lid of the box was rusted over. It would have been hard to pry off in the best of health, but the hands that removed it trembled. After a great struggle, and one final heave, the lid went flying, landing on the polished wood floor with a clang the rung throughout every room in the home. The bone thin hand reached into the tin and grasped a photograph dated 1995. In it a young boy looking very pleased with himself was scarcely an inch away from the face of a similarly aged girl, who's face was turned with a drooped jaw and one fist uncrossed from her lap. They could never remember how the scene ends...

-1-1-1-

They first met when she was 7 and he was 9. Her father knew his uncle somehow, as he seemed to know a lot of important people despite his own sleaziness.

"Play nice." He had told her. He needed to borrow some money and it wouldn't help his image if she upset his kid.

"_You_ don't help your image." She had told him. He knocked on the door to the mansion.

"I should've left you with Anita."

"You dumped her."

"Oh, right."

When the door finally opened they were greeted not with a butler as they had been at most estates they borrowed money from, but a kind eyed man with dark wavy hair in a low ponytail. To her surprise, his smiled down at her, though he seemed tired.

"Hello, Cross. And this is your daughter, as I've heard?"

"Yeah," Came her father's brisk reply. He nudged her forward sharp enough to upset her, but not hard enough for her to fall. "Introduce yourself, kid."

She smoothed down her too expensive for their budget dress and shot her father a glare over her shoulder. He only scoffed.

With a dramatic "hmph!" she had turned back to the nice seeming man at the door. The next victim of her father's free-loading.

"My name is Araceli Marian, and you should probably run while you still have the-" she was interrupted by a kick to the foot. Both men seemed to know exactly what she was going to say.

"I already know of your father's spending habits, Araceli. Believe me, I know I will never be returned this money." He had laughed. She guessed with the size of the mansion he probably had enough money that he didn't need to be payed back. "Why don't you go in the parlor while your father and I talk. My nephew, Tyki, should be in there. He's about your age."

She had shuffled her feet, but ultimately been pushed to the parlor by her father. She'd hated him in the first glance. Everything about him screamed snobby rich kid. The pussy hair, the pretty face, even the way he sat tempted her to hit him. But she restrained herself.

"Who are you?" He had asked with the kind of smile that made her want to knock his teeth out.

"I don't like you," she stated bluntly. His smile faltered for a split second, but much to her disappointment he didn't get mad at her. No fights just yet it seemed.

"That's fine. But I really would like to know who you are, and why you're in my house."

She frowned. "Araceli. My dad's here to see your uncle. He told me to wait in here."

"Oh, is your dad that guy who's borrowing money?"

She looked at her feet with the shame she had grown accustomed to while visiting these places, preparing herself for the ridicule.

"He is, isn't he?" The boy snorted.

"What's it to ya! Who's your dad so special you can laugh at mine!?" She saw the whole in her argument was as big as that mansion as soon as she said it, but before she could figure out how to correct herself she was jolted out of thought by the sudden silence as the laughter halted. When she finally looked up he was cringing a little.

"No, really. Who?" She said with a smirk. Upper hand gained.

"Well... you know that..." he sighed. "You know crazy keyboard guy?"

"Your dad is crazy keyboard guy?" She gaped. He gave a lamenting nod and she burst into laughter. "And I thought my dad was bad!"

"Shut up!"

"Fine, fine." She crossed her arms in a stubborn silence.

"Crazy Keyboard Guy isn't his real name, ya know. He's actually called Neah."

She sighed and pulled a deck of cards out of her dress pockets. "You wanna play cards? This usually takes a while."

"Whatever. I'm a poker master."

"Well I never lose."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

A few hours later he was left in his undershorts and she was smirking wildly.

"You cheated!"

"Did not!"

"I saw you!"

"Really!?"

"Aha! I knew you cheated!"

"You tricked me!"

"C'mon, you owe me a kiss!"

"As if!"

"But-"

"Araceli, I have booze to buy, let's get going."

He father stood leaning in the door way, for once as sober as he was when he arrived. This Mana Campbell had had enough sense not to give him alcohol.

"Yeah yeah, I'm coming."

"Give the brat back his clothes first."

"Sure. I didn't want 'em." She tossed the clothes back at the boy without a glance and shuffled out after her father. And for that nine year old boy, nothing could have intrigued him more.

June 24th, 1995


End file.
